take a walk on the wild side
by plaid stockings
Summary: R/Y, G/B, G/C, R/S — "Please, it's kind of obvious we're all getting laid." — A place to post PokéSpe smut. 04: Sapphire likes control, but, then again, sometimes Ruby likes holding the leash.
1. everyone: thirty separate occurrences

**A/N:** A place to dump PokéSpe smuts. These will be variable in length and style; each chapter is a piece by itself.

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><p><strong>take a walk on the wild side<strong>  
><em>number one<br>30 themes from 30 lemons_

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**001. Anonymity**

If there was something that deeply bothered Green, it was the nights when he'd wake up in, hot and bothered over a stupid dream over a girl whose face he could never, ever remember (but whose voice always reminded him of someone).

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><p><strong>002. The Audience<strong>

There was someone out there who hated him, Gold thought with a suffering, quiet groan, his left hand over Crystal's parted, panting mouth, the right one halting its services under her skirt, when he took notice that there was someone about to open the lab's door.

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><p><strong>003. "Help, I'm Out<strong>** O****f Control, Thank God!"**

This would be the last fucking time he would even bother to open his door to Blue, because it was two in the fucking morning and not everyone was delightfully unemployed and as he was about to explain her this, pulling his front door open, he found that he couldn't, because she was kissing him and pulling on his shirt and closing the door behind her...

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><p><strong>004. The Thrill Of The Forbidden<strong>

"There are graduation thesis about these kinds of fetishes," Gold explained, leaning over her, his warm hand snaking across the forbidden zone between her tube socks and her skirt, and Crystal found herself swallowing in dry apprehension, because his face was closer and closer (and so was his hand).

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><p><strong>005. "When In Rome..."<strong>

If she was in Celadon at the same time Green was, well, that was just a coincidence; but since they were here already, "well, why not check out the lover's cape by the north?" Blue suggested cheekily.

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><p><strong>006. "Denial <strong>**I****sn't**** J****ust**** A**** River ****I****n Egypt!"**

Sapphire was screaming at him, her face a startling shade of pink (a colour not unlike the satin dress he'd seen in Prada's catalogs), and Ruby took it as just another one of her puberty-driven tirades—but half a second later, she was on top of him, half-straddling him, their noses almost touching, and Ruby finally felt very aware of their gender differences, and of the dangerously triumphant tone of her voice as she whispered in his ear, "I guess you aren't _that_ unaffected, if that thing against my leg is any indication."

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><p><strong>007. "I Feel Pretty!"<strong>

Blue's nineteenth birthday was an unforgettable event—not because of the party per se, although it had been an _extremely_ memorable event, but because of the small little number she somehow convinced Yellow to wear, a black, strapless thing that was on Red's mind for weeks after that.

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><p><strong>008. The Phonebooth<strong>

Crystal only checked her voice mail at night, when she was home: free from her job, free to dive inside her bathtub, free to put on a jazz record while she played through the voice messages, free to feel her skin sizzle and burn when she realised just what kind of message Gold had left her.

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><p><strong>009. Sex <strong>**A****nd Drugs**

"What's an aph-ap-rodisiac-al?" Sapphire asked, straining to read the word; Ruby wordlessly took the magazine away from her and shoved it down his garbage can, fighting a sudden blush from spreading across his face, and ignoring Sapphire's protests that she was old enough to know what it was, or did he want her to ask her dad again, didn't he remember what the porn incident had been all about—"okay, okay, I'll tell you!" he hissed, turning his face away.

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><p><strong>010. "Why Do <strong>**T****he Bad Guys Always Have ****T****he Sexiest Uniforms?"**

He was unable to decide if he was mortified or simply disappointed in himself, getting a stiff one just because Yellow was dressed in a Team Rocket uniform for a mission; the fact that the skirt was several inches over her knees and the fact that the shirt clung tightly to her chest were apparently the reasons as to why Red's body decided it was time to stop cooperating.

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><p><strong>011. "The Sleeves <strong>**O****n ****T****his Jacket**** A****re ****A**** B****it Long, Sir."**

Ruby realised belatedly that Blue and Gold were terrible influences on Sapphire - and horrible side-servings of her hormonal explosions - when she barged inside his room, wearing one of her father's old raincoats (and seemingly little else), and _demanded_ he shortened its sleeves, or _else_.

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><p><strong>012. The Garden<strong>

They were cutting the older branches of her uncle's backyard as a favour while he was away on holiday: him, holding the ladder, and her, managing the garden tools; in retrospect, Yellow probably shouldn't have worn a skirt, and Red probably shouldn't have looked up in concern when she accidentally scraped her finger, yelping.

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><p><strong>013. "Giddyap!"<strong>

Blue knew Green would refuse to believe she'd fallen on him accidentally, but she hoped she would stay on top of him long enough for him to forget about that little snag on her plan and eventually decide that a harmless quickie wouldn't hurt anyone.

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><p><strong>014. Virtual Reality<strong>

Crystal's expertise in computers ended where Gold's began, since she was a frequent user of data and archiving programs, while Gold was an avid gamer, usually playing poker or blackjack (and the occasional chess match) against the machine; of course that wasn't all he did on the computer, and Crystal was livid, to say the least, when he asked her what she thought of _eroges,_especially because he asked her to play one with him.

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><p><strong>015. The Bordello<strong>

"This looks like a strip club," Ruby sniffed at Gold, indignantly, wishing he could gouge his eyes out once he saw the café attendants, wearing short-shorts and tight T-shirt with clashing colors; until he saw Sapphire bending over the counter with a "don't ask" smile, and promptly forgot how to form coherent sentences (he really hoped it was for an undercover mission, though).

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><p><strong>016. "<strong>**The ****Teacher Hit Me With a Ruler****...****"**

He didn't know what was more embarrassing: the fact that Crystal had snapped at him like he was one of the kids she taught at the orphanage, her plastic ruler slapping across the back of his hand, or that he had liked it so much he'd groaned, leaving her staring at him open-mouthed and flushed.

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><p><strong>017. "Underwater Wonders"<strong>

The only sea where you could dive was Hoenn's, and while that made Sapphire proud of her country, she couldn't really think about diving after all the weird ideas Gold and Blue had given her, involving bathing suits and the unnecessary need to breathe while having sex.

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><p><strong>018. The Lockup<strong>

"What do you_ mean _quarantine?" Blue half-shrieked, half-asked, staring at Green's soaked outfit, "What do you mean, we're locked here? What do you mean, for the whole night? What do you mean,_ I_ was the one who made you drop the vial? And," she smiled, stepping closer, touching at the lab coat with her fingers, "what do you mean you haven't got any spare clothes?"

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><p><strong>019. The Gymnasium<strong>

She thought Gold helping her out with the physical education of the orphanage's kids was a great idea, and Crystal even thanked him for it, right up until the class was over and he pulled her into the storage room and, after pushing her up against the door, asked for a check-up.

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><p><strong>020. First Timers<strong>

Ruby was a romantic, sure, but Sapphire's level of cheesy severely overpowered his, and he found this out when she took him by the hand to the secret cave where the two first met; he got honestly touched by the gesture, until she pressed a kiss on his lips, slow like honey (but then they gained speed and in-between hurried kisses and a startling increase of temperature, well ...).

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><p><strong>021. "When I Think About You, I Touch Myself"<strong>

To Red, the otherwise normal - if a little hot - realization that Yellow was also a sexual being would've probably been much easier to learn if he hadn't been the witness to a particularly vivid dream of hers, complete with writhing, moaning and gasping; at first he thought it was a nightmare, which was why he'd walked inside the room she was sleeping in after Blue's New Year's party, concerned—and then he noticed where her sleeping hands were touching, for even though she was under the sheets it was pretty obvious (and he froze, by the door, open-mouthed and with a raging hard-on).

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><p><strong>022. "Surprise! Guess Who's <strong>**O****n Top Tonight?"**

Despite Sapphire's inhuman strength, Ruby was more than capable to reduce her to a shivering, moaning, pathetically dependent mess; it of course depended on his mood to revisit his past self, but more often than not, Ruby found that the pros severely out-weighted the cons, and he liked it when she called out his name like that, either way (the slick touches of his fingers and tongue were just bonuses when in comparison).

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><p><strong>023. Preventing Hypothermia<strong>

Gold would be lying if he said he hadn't dreamt of the always-a-favourite fantasy of him, Crystal and soaked clothes; which was why as they took cover in a cave while the storm outside raged, he could start feeling the slow burn of desire make its way down as she seemed to realize they were going to have to strip or face a really bad cold.

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><p><strong>024. Doctor's In<strong>

It was just for Halloween, Red told himself for the twelfth time, as he averted his eyes from Yellow's bare legs (for the twelfth time), trying to breathe through his nose instead of through his mouth, trying not to stare at the fake stethoscope around her thin neck, trying not to wonder if she was wearing garter-socks under that short skirt, and wishing he hadn't gone as cowboy, because those leather pants were starting to get really uncomfortable...

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><p><strong>025. The Planetarium<strong>

During the Fourth of July, they made plans to get together in Viridian and watch the stars and the consequential fireworks, but as she walked in on a couple making out for the third time, Crystal couldn't help but to think that they shouldn't have split up after all (and Gold kept insisting they had a great view from that lonesome clear over there, like she was stupid and couldn't tell he wanted some action too).

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><p><strong>026. "It's Getting Hot<strong>** I****n Here, So Take Off All Your Clothes"**

"The AC system is broken," Green told her dryly, crossing his arms over his bare chest, and Blue did feel a little warm, but she wasn't sure it was from the heating conducts malfunctioning or from seeing him half-naked.

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><p><strong>027. The Mile-High Club<strong>

"Have you ever thought of having sex while flying?" Gold asked once, out-of-the blue, and Crystal dropped her reports all over the floor, "It's just, I mean, some pokémon can be wide enough for two and - _ow!_"

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><p><strong>028. "Oh, <strong>**I****s ****T****he Movie Over Already?"**

Green almost couldn't look the tickets' guy in the eyes when they walked out of the movie theatre, Blue's lipstick just barely smudged and his fly hastily zipped up; when they were at a safe distance, he informed her he was _never_ going to the movies with her again, to which she replied with a smile and a very warm kiss.

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><p><strong>029. "Making Sweet Music"<strong>

It surprised her a little when Gold told her, off-handedly, that he'd had piano lessons when he was younger, because he just wasn't the type for a piano, he was more of a guitar kind of guy; a few weeks after that, he practiced for her, and Crystal found he could play very well, but in the end he just had to ruin it all, when he asked her if she wanted to see what else he could do with his fingers.

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><p><strong>030. "Wow, Santa Never Brought Me <strong>_**That**_** Kind of Toy!"**

This was it, this was how he would die: he was going to die of embarrassment, watching her delighted expression shift into one of mortified confusion as she pulled the ... remote controlled ..._thing_ out of the bag he had just handed her (somewhere behind him, Blue was laughing hysterically, while Gold choked on her birthday cake and had to be helped by Pearl); Yellow's flustered eyes didn't land on his for the rest of the afternoon, despite his attempts to explain that he had been horribly _set up_, and that _his_ present was just an innocent, if expensive, pack of fishing bait.


	2. gc: take, take, take — part one

**take a walk on the wild side**  
><em>number two<br>__gold/crystal: take, take, take  
>(<em>or:_ okays and reallys)_

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It's the aftermath of his birthday dinner. She's stayed behind, arms full of dirty plates and greasy cutlery, while he shoves the glasses inside his washing machine, decorum be damned. Gold steps aside, sweet seventeen written all over his face, and smiles, leaning on the counter while she patiently files the plates on each metal partition.

"So, like, are you my birthday present or something?" he asks, out of the blue, gritty and sleazy like only Gold can be. Crystal feels the slow burn of a blush creep across her cheeks, and the forks she's handling all fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Crystal hurriedly catches at the silverware with shaky, embarrassed hands.

"Shut up," she says, but her voice catches, with a breathy, half-expectant sound that she _detests_. Her hands are already oily from the dishes, so when she finishes, she elbows the faucet and washes them with his lemon detergent. "When is your mother coming home? It's already past midnight."

It's already past midnight and they're the only ones home. Gold told her beforehand that his mother would be out, to give them some space while they congratulated his seventeenth birthday, but now Crystal only feels apprehensive, because this is his territory, his hunting space, and she's all alone. She pushes the faucet shut and looks out the window. Outside, the lit streets are empty, but that doesn't surprise her. Newbark is practically a village; there is no one who would be out at this hour.

She stifles a yawn and leans against the counter, beside him. The door to the living room is open, and she can see the confetti on the floor, the serpentine wires spread over the lamps. She is certainly not going to clean it up for him.

"Yeah," he says, slowly, like he's just remembered, "she called and said she'd spend the night in Goldenrod."

"Hm," Crystal says. And then it strikes her. "_Oh_."

His hand is inches from hers. She can tell, even as she stubbornly faces the tiled wall in front of her. The ceiling light shifts the shadows on his fingers when he moves them, curling his pinky over hers. It's a little rough, but warm – although not as warm as her face feels. She pulls her hand away from his and folds her arms. It's a defensive position, and she feels a little guilty, but—

"I should go."

A pause.

"Yeah," he says, finding his pockets and looking away. He doesn't sound disappointed, but she knows him better than to assume he isn't.

She bites her bottom lip until it aches, and then does a volte-face, covering her face with her hands.

"Er," she says, from behind her fingers, voice reluctant and tentative, "unless you need … help … with … anything?"

Gold's smile is so wide it almost splits his face in half, when she peeks to look at him, and her face _burns_, because how much more obvious can he get? How much more obvious can _she_ get? He steps in front of her, touching at her wrists, pulling them away from her jaw. She feels her breath catch when the palm of his hands fit against the hollow of her cheek, but then he's leaning down and kissing her. She grips at the kitchen counter, hard.

He tastes like chocolate cake (and something else, something bitter she can't quite put her finger on) and Crystal pulls away, eyes wide.

"Oh! I forgot to put the cake back into the fridge—"

"I'll take care of it later," he says hurriedly, his hands latching at her nape and bringing her closer once more. She complies, feeling his lips run over hers, peppering kisses on the corners of her mouth. She parts to breathe, feeling a little light-headed when he pries her mouth open with his thumb_._ His tongue is wet against her own, and it's been almost a year since the last time they've done this, almost a year since they came from the Battle Frontier unscathed, almost a year since her and him—

"Wait, wait, wait," she says, pulling back so much she's practically crawling on the counter.

"What, what, what?" he breathes, against her mouth, leaning into her. His elbows are on each side of her, and when she tries reaching a little further, she finds that he's intertwined his fingers behind her back. They're warm and she inhales when he slips his pinkies under her shirt.

She thinks she's figured out what he tastes like, now.

"Did you drink anything?" She's a little appalled at the thought that they're alone in his house and he's _half-drunk_. Because everything makes sense now – the hurried kisses, the extensive physical contact, his shameless fingers. Crystal feels a little hot, suddenly. Just enough to make her stomach burn and sink. "This isn't like you," she adds, later, even though this _is_ like Gold, this touchy and frantic moment is _all_ Gold. She wonders if he's ever expected her to take the lead. Crystal doesn't think she ever will.

"Yes," he says, matter-of-factly, running his nose across the line of her jaw, nipping at the back of her ear when he gets there. Her stomach quivers, and she can't help but to make a small, amused noise, because she's ticklish there. Gold hums, pleased, and then forgoes his lips and starts using his tongue. _Oh._ Her hips tug and in the next second she feels her face _burn_, because that's when he groans into her ear and starts pressing down. She thinks she already feels the telltale pressure of his dick against her thigh, and it makes her knees quiver. She doesn't know if it's in anticipation or nervousness.

"Gold," she warns, when his fingers unlatch from each other and start creeping up her shirt.

"What?" He sounds unconcerned.

She breathes in.

"I—" All she can think about is the last time his hands were unlatching the hook of her bra, the last time the two of them were alone. Crystal remembers other things, too, like her leg hooked over his shoulder, like the sound of his voice in her ear, telling her to come. Like their last week in Cape Brink, like him saying he loved her, like them trying out her bed and then his bed and then the kitchen table, and then—well. She isn't sure why she's remembering that, all of a sudden, but it's _there_ and she can't forget about it. The top of her thighs is already tingling and she hates herself for it. Kind of.

"Can I have you?" he asks, sliding her closer to him, pulling her more on top of his hips. Oh, yeah, that's – that's… yeah. She _definitely_ feels him, now. "For my birthday?"

"It's not your birthday anymore," Crystal replies, but her voice is drowsy with doubt. He licks at her lips, begging her for a deep kiss, and she finds herself complying without even realizing it. He tastes like chocolate and gin. She blames Blue for the alcohol, but Gold's the only responsible for his own lecherousness. She is not totally innocent, either; her arms are around his neck already, and she squeezes when he grinds against her. "Ah—"

"I'm going to have you either way," he tells her, and his honesty makes her make a small, needy noise. He smirks against her cheek, spreads his hands against her ass, brings her so close she can feel the metal of his zipper digging against her thigh.

"Okay," she breathes, and that's when he pulls away, eyes half-lidded and penetrating.

"Really?" he whispers, waiting for her to confirm.

She takes a second to inhale, and another to nod. He gifts her with a slow smile, and then with a kiss, a peck of chapped lips. It's silly when she thinks of his hands firmly stuck against her underwear, it's silly that she's letting him get away with this _again_. It's silly that she's nervous when she knows she's going to end up gasping out his name. It's always like that.

When she thought she was going to die, before the Battle Frontier … When she thought she was going to die, she knew she'd regret never kissing him. Gold took things further. Gold wanted more, and more, until Crystal had nothing left to give him. Until all that was left was the two of them between clammy sheets. Until all that was left was her crying into his shoulder when it was over, scared and overly emotive and still dizzy. Until all that was left was his arm around her shoulders and his calming lips on hers. And then they fought against Guile, and _won,_ and she felt embarrassed that she'd been so overt with him. So … explicit. She'd let him get his way with her on the kitchen table, for crying out loud.

Crystal feels her cheeks redden at the thought that Gold's actually getting into her pants again – and this time they don't have a death sentence hanging over their heads. This time, it's all about the two of them and not just about fear of regretting. He told her, _I don't want to die a virgin and I want you, I've always wanted you. It's always been you_. And she reddened and smacked him and ultimately came to the same conclusion. Because it's always been him. And now here they are, non-virgins acting like virgins. She's always going to be embarrassed over sex, over Gold, over what they are. Heck, she doesn't even know what she is to him.

"Wait," she whispers, when Gold's fingers start playing with the band of her panties. They halt immediately, and she thinks she loves him more because he stops when she wants him to. "What am I to you?" He gives her a look, not wide-eyed, not surprised. Her cheeks are so hot. "I mean – I … Is this just going to be like this over and over?"

"Why? Would you mind?"

She frowns at him. His fingers are still frozen beneath her belly button. "_I don't kn_—it doesn't _matter_ what I mind." She wants to hide her face behind her hands; the embarrassment of having this talk with him is making her dizzy and half-angry. The anxiety of hearing a rejection is making her sick to her stomach. This would be easier if she hadn't told him she loved him, the first time she came. This would be easier if he hadn't told her he loved her, red-faced and pressing her up against the wall of the shack's bathroom. Did he mean it? She doesn't know. She wants to know. She wants to know so _bad_.

"Are you asking me if I only want sex out of this?" He looks skeptic, eyebrows high on his forehead. Crystal gives him a meek nod. "Are you fucking kidding me, Crystal?"

"Language," she warns, even if the way he says it makes her stomach skip a little. She'll never admit it to him.

"Come on," he growls, pulling his hands out of her underwear and grabbing at her shoulders. "I told you I l-l—" he blushes bright red, and there it is, the same shade his face was the day he told her that, when she was stepping out of the shower and he screwed her silly against the tiled walls. The memory makes her flush, and here they are, two bright red tomatoes struggling to speak. "Love you," he finishes, finally, and it's like she can _breathe again_. "I'd never – " he sighs, still chagrined, "I'd never ask to fuck you silly if I didn't."

He loves her.

"Language!" she squeaks, when her brain regains its functions, and he smirks at her and kisses her instead of apologizing. She allows herself the pleasure of bringing her hands up to his hair; it's getting a little long, but she likes the change.

He hums when she does it, so she does it again and again, until he slides his fingers inside her underwear. She yelps embarrassedly, gripping at the counter and thinking that this is a new low for her, allowing him to get to second base in his freaking _kitchen counter_. And then he leans over, brushes his mouth against the shell of her ear.

"How do you want to go?"

"W-what?" she manages, somehow. Her voice is fluctuating already.

He brings her lobe into his mouth and bites at it, and Crystal's hands fist in his hair. Gold hisses, and she relaxes almost immediately.

"Do it again." His voice is as deep as it was the day she finally gave into his handy ministrations. She can't help it, she whines, very softly, and he drags his teeth across her neck. His breath is ragged, although not as much as hers. "How do you want to come, Crys?" She can't believe he's asking her that. She feels her toes curl and presses her lips together, tight. He only laughs, smooth and low and lecherous, and then he flicks his thumb and she sees _stars_.

It's still not enough. Her teeth bite at her lip and she wants to groan, wants to tell him to hurry up. She won't. She knows herself much better than that, she knows she'll never ask him to please make her come. She wants, though. She wants, she wants—

He _loves_ her.

"I-I wanna come," she mumbles, through numb lips, and rotates her hips against his hands without even meaning to. "Please," she whines, adding insult to injury.

Her elbows are starting to shake, her back is starting to hurt, and she's scared that she's going to fall off the counter he's propped her up against, but all of those worries are secondary to the fact that the spring inside her stomach is coiling tighter and tighter and she's_—not—**coming**_—

"Let me hear you," he commands, and presses his leg between hers.

She obeys, closing her fingers around his hair and panting out his name. The spring jumps and her legs wrap around his, tightening enough to make him groan. She closes her eyes, bites her lip, and inhales. When the air she gets is not enough, she opens her mouth and gasps. He's holding her when she opens her eyes to look at him, grabbing her by the waist, making sure she doesn't fall.

"That was great," Gold says, voice tight. He wipes his hand on his jeans, and it reminds her of the first time his hands were wandering around her panties. "I liked the way you threw your head back."

"Shut _up_," she whispers, hiding her face into his chest. His left hand brings her jaw up and kisses her, all tongue and lip-biting. She can feel his franticness, and it surprises her to find herself eagerly replying. She wants this as much as he does; her shaking hands find his zipper and he sucks in a keen breath.

"What're you—"

"What do you think?" she hisses, getting more embarrassed by the second. "I-I …" She inhales, thinks about all the ways he got her off back at Kimberly's shack, and gets down on her knees. _He loves her. _"I owe you. So…"

"Oh _my_ **_god_**, I can't _b elieve_ you're—oh fuck, oh fuck. My knees aren't going to hold."

"What?" She stops pulling on his jeans and gives him a look. "What do you mean they're not going to _hold_?"

He runs a hand through his hair and looks away. "Look, it's just – trust me. If you're gonna blow me, I'm going to have to sit down."

This is embarrassing enough without him having to talk about it. Crystal takes the easy way out: "This was a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn't—"

"Wow, wow, easy," he says, sounding almost panicky. It makes her want to laugh nervously, kind of. "Let's calm down. You _totally_ should." She blinks at him, face burning. "I mean – if you want to, of course! But yeah. I'm giving you a give head." He closes his eyes, cringing. "I meant—_go ahead_. A go ahead."

"What are you going on about?"

"Crys," he says, sitting down and setting his hands on her shoulders. His legs go on each side of her, trapping her. "I would _really_, really like if you gave me a blowjob."

Her hands tighten around the fabric of his pants, in shock, and he gives a short, satisfied sigh, soothing over her shoulder with his thumb. Her face is too hot and tingly, just like the apex of her thighs, and she thinks, _I can do this_. _If I screw up, it's – it's fine._ But she doesn't want to screw up. She's used to being perfect; perfect at reports, perfect at research, perfect at catching pokémon. But she's got no practice at this. Back in Cape Brink, Gold was the one who advanced, the one who invented all the ways to make her come. She took, and took, and took. But today's his birthday. And for once she feels confident enough to give.

She palms his dick, through his boxers, and listens to him stop breathing. He's hard, and she feels a little appreciated, although she doesn't know why.

"Okay."

This time, he is excited, and it shows. His eyes widen and he makes a funny sound with his throat, and she doesn't miss how he fists his hands, knuckles white.

"R-Really?"

This time, she doesn't bother nodding. She only leans over, unfolding her legs, leaning on his thigh. Her ribs fit right above his kneecap. She feels it when she inhales. It's not an extremely comfortable position, but it works, even if she is too aware of the damp fabric of her panties. Gold opens his hands, sits up straighter, and her cheeks flush at the thought that he's trying to get a better look. For what, she doesn't know – does anyone look flattering while … well …

She pulls his boxers down and doesn't stop to think about what she's doing – only thinks about how flushed his face is, how much she likes getting him off, how much she likes feeling needed and wanted. And then she leans in, opening her mouth and taking note of the hiss he makes. It strikes her that she doesn't exactly know what to do – despite Blue's _very _constant advice on girls' nights – but she just doesn't care. _Gold_ obviously doesn't care, so why should she? She breathes through her nose and sinks down, just an inch. He's still making sounds, hands tightening and loosening, like he doesn't know where to put them. Seeing him lose it like that makes her want to touch him more, or maybe ask him to touch her. At least her underwear's already wet, she thinks, and then feels appalled. She brings her head up, then down; rinse and repeat. Sometimes, she feels daring enough to use her tongue, sometimes her teeth (but always carefully).

He finishes early – hurriedly telling her to pull away, that he's going to come – but Crystal thinks about the various times he brought her legs around her head, thinks about how he didn't pull away from her folds until she was done calling out his name. So instead of letting him fall off her mouth, she closes her eyes and sucks harder. She chokes, but it's worth it. It's _so_ worth it, watching his jaw tense, watching him bite his lip, listening to the breathy, tight call of her name. If this is how glorious he feels when he listens to her coming, then she understands why he likes doing it so much.

Crystal stands up on unsteady feet, while he catches his breath, and spits onto the first napkin she can find. _Eugh_. It's _bitter_. She chucks the crumpled paper on the bin, and makes plans to cover it up with anything else. Just in case.

When she turns, she's expecting him to smirk at her and make an off-hand remark about her sucking skills (or lack of thereof), and readies for a blush; but, instead, she finds him glancing up at her, eyes stern. He's oddly serious, and Crystal feels the pit of her stomach glaze over with ice. _Oh, god, I broke him_.

"Gold?"

"How do you want to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Crys, come on," he says, lifting his eyebrows and staring at his lap for a split second. She follows his gaze and – _oh._ He's already hard, and she feels her face heat. _Is that **normal**?_

"But you _just _… I just_—_" Her eyes are wide.

He looks away, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm a seventeen-year-old boy, super-serious girl. Besides … Come _on_," he says, with a shrug of his shoulders, "how do you expect anyone to settle down after watching a gorgeous girl sucki—"

"_Oh-kay_," she hisses, cutting him off (and inwardly cheering at the thought that he thinks she's gorgeous), "I get it. Thank you."

"No, thank _you_."

How did she fall in love with such an embarrassing moron? Crystal brings her hands to her face and groans into them. A few seconds later, he pulls them away and peers into her eyes, dead serious.

"So how do you want to do this?" He intertwines their fingers, brings her close enough for their chests to brush.

"I don't _know_." What ways are there?

"I'm just asking 'cause I'm always the one who ends up picking the spot. And I figure you'd like choosing, for once." He presses a kiss against her knuckles and it's incredible that this is the boy who is annoying and childish and _impossible. _"Do you want suggestions? I really liked having sex in the kitchen table, but mine's kind of small—"

"Please stop talking." She closes her eyes. She knows she's blushing. The thing is, Gold always makes her blush. There's the 'I saw your panties' blush, which is reserved for when he visits her at the lab, there is the 'suggestive comment' blush, which happens all the time. There's the 'I am going to embarrass you further' blush. There are lots of blushes. The one she's wearing is the 'I have so many NC-17 rated pictures in my head I can't even breathe'. "You know I'm not good at this."

"What? Please. My dick begs to differ—"

"_Gold_!"

"Okay, _o_kay, sorry." He's smiling. "But I want you to choose."

"It's your birthday," she replies, like they're picking outfits instead of sexual positions. It's easier if she pretends. "You pick."

"You sure?"

She nods. Her stomach is already hot and heavy, and she shifts her thighs distractedly. God, she needs to put her panties in the wash.

"Well, this is something I …" He lets go of her right hand and runs a hand through his hair. "How do you feel about handcuffs?"

Crystal closes her eyes and resists the urge to slap her forehead. _This is the guy I fell in love with._

"I—" she breathes in, presses her lips tightly together.

"You don't have to—"

"Okay."

She lets her shoulders fall, and he brings her closer and kisses her, rough enough to make her moan. His hands bring her hips closer to his, and she pulls away with a drowsy groan.

"Really?" he asks, and when she nods he grins so widely his face is nearly split in half. "You won't regret it."

She already has. Kind of. But then she remembers; _he **loves** her. _He loves her, he loves her, he loves her, and she loves him back. She's going to make this work.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	3. gc: orgasm denial

**take a walk on the wild side**  
><em>number three<br>__gold/crystal: orgasm denial  
><em>

.

.

.

Practice makes perfection and Gold learns to know when Crystal's about to come after a lot of practice. It's a sequence, really: she stiffens, bites her lip, and (when he forgets to ask her not to) closes her eyes, throwing her head back just slightly. It's hot enough to make him lose it, too, and that's why he decides using his fingers is far cleverer.

It's on accident he finds out what a pleasure it is, torturing her like that.

His mom's out and his bedroom's tidy enough, so he somehow succeeds into inviting her in. The following steps are easy, really, because Crystal's in a good mood and because it's easier to convince her like that.

He's managed to get his hand inside her underwear, leaning over, whispering whatever works in her ear when her shoulders halt. And so does his thumb, because he's feeling sadistic and he wants her to beg for it. Crystal huffs at him in a very non-threateningly way (probably because she's flushed red and panting), her pale eyes glaring non-effectively over her quivering shoulder. A shiver runs up his spine, and he thinks, _huh_.

He does it twice and the frustration is more evident the second time, and for a moment he almost, almost grinds into her, wanting to get inside her already, because Crystal _never_ shows that she wants, but he pulls out of it, breathing hard. He waits a few seconds for her to regain her almost-lost bearings, and begins anew, fingers padding and gyrating and—

Her hands twist on his sheets and she arches a little, and he's never been so glad to have a western-styled bed, because otherwise he would've never been able to see her kneeling beside it, her skirt flipped up, her underwear around her thighs – but he stops again. Third time's the charm: Crystal's knuckles are white and shaking and he can't help but to grip her by the waist, grinding against her greedily.

"How bad do you want it," he asks, and when she unwillingly tenses, thighs closing slightly, he moans into her ear with a low voice. "Hmm, yeah, that's it."

She doesn't reply – of course – but her blush deepens, running from her cheeks to her neck, and he decides to reward her with another hand, letting his left soothe the path from waist to breast. He pulls her bra up and Crystal moans, burying her face in his sheets.

He starts again, with slow, frustrating motions of his wrist, and Crystal must be too dizzy from frustration to think, because she starts accompanying his fingers with a hypnotizing lull of her hips. Gold shifts closer to her, pressing his tongue against the lobe of her ear, grinding in time with her ass, and he feels blessed when she gasps, letting the sound die slowly.

"Still haven't answered my question," he says, but it's raspy and a little desperate, because he's got his dick between her thighs and he's starting to lose it, too.

And Crystal turns her face just slightly, her arms still trying to cover her head, and starts begging him in the sweetest, most anxious voice he's ever heard from her. He hears_ please_ and _I can't anymore _and _just—_and there's a pause, a shift in volume, her voice breaking into a whisper—_let me come, _and that's what breaks him.

Her shoulders and her voice hikes, her back arches, and Crystal is (finally!) allowed to come, with a long, drawn-out gasp of his name. He lets her breathe easy for four – no, three seconds, and then unzips his pants, telling her what a good girl she's been, and that if that's how she gets from his fingers, then just wait until he gets inside her.


	4. rs: push and pull

**A/N: **originally written for ibuberu

* * *

><p><strong>take a walk on the wild side<strong>  
><em>number four<br>__ruby/sapphire: push and pull  
><em>

.

.

.

They'd been arguing over something stupid, like always, but Ruby had hoped it would dissolve in time.

Three overwrought days later, it hasn't. Sapphire is still edgy and sharp, and Ruby, like usual, doesn't manage to soften her. He tries, though, but she moves her head to the side when he tries to kiss her, untangles their hands when he attempts to hold hers, pretends not to see him glance at her every two seconds. He's had enough. It's not that it really pisses him of – it does –, but more like … it depresses him. Reminds him early days, of cruising through Hoenn and denying a gigantic crush. Ruby isn't the most cheerful person around; he supposes Sapphire manages to forget about certain mental bruises, but Ruby liked to poke at his wounds when he was younger and that still hasn't fucking changed.

"I already said I'm sorry," he says, quiet, after fifteen minutes have passed and she still hasn't addressed him. Today is a bad day for them to argue – her parents are out of town (evolutionary theorists' assembly and an aunt with a broken hip have assured her house is empty), and Ruby doesn't quite know if he'll behave. "What else do you want me to say?"

"Nothing." She flips a page from the magazine she is reading.

Ruby sighs as he stands up, walking in her direction.

"Look," he says, trapping her between his hands. She doesn't look up from her magazine, but he notices the flicker of her eyes, how they reread the same word over and over. Sapphire has always been crummy at pretending. He loves her for it, too. "I'm sorry, okay. I've apologized to you twice now, so I don't know what you want me to do."

She presses her lips together, and he thinks he's failed until she looks down, eyes soft, and says: "I—I'm sorry too. I guess I overreacted a little, huh?"

"Just a little?"

"Don't push your luck, pretty boy—" she is cut off as he kisses her. He's missed her, even though they've been together. He misses her and doesn't know why. Sapphire makes a surprised noise, tensing, but Ruby doesn't want to let go, so he doesn't. Eventually, Sapphire relaxes against him, pressing her hands into his stomach at first, and then pulling him closer. He leans in further, placing his knee on the chair for better balance. It rolls until it hits her desk, but he accompanies the movement with a fluid step. Improvising in all those contests has paid off, he thinks, as his hands brush down her back.

Sapphire's breath skips and he decides that he is tired of pretending he doesn't want her.

"My—" she gasps, "my parents are out of town today."

She turns a redder shade when he tells her he knows, pulling back to kneel.

"I'm glad you're wearing shorts today," he says, offhandedly, pressing an absent kiss to her thigh, and Sapphire's toes curl. He wonders if she's aware she's doing it, and then brings her right leg over his shoulder. Her face is red, expectant. "Makes things easier."

"Don't—don't say things like that," she hisses back, looking away.

He smiles, unbuttoning her shorts with the expertise of someone who's loved her too many times to count (and yet somehow not enough, probably never enough). Sapphire inhales, bringing her hips up to help him undress her. She's never been this mellow before, and Ruby's not sure he likes it; she's always the one who commands, the one who tops, the one who presses him down onto his bed, wearing predatory eyes and a smile that makes him think of Blue's. Inside him, hidden behind childhood traumas, something stirs, eager to control for once. Ruby allows it, as he folds her shorts and places them on top of her desk.

Sapphire stands up when he pulls on her hand; she's shaking, from her fingers to her lip. He wants to eat her up.

"I like talking. You of all people know that." His voice is deeper. He clears his throat.

She frowns, exceedingly embarrassed: "Just – shut up! You're taking too long!" And, with a powerful shove that surprises absolutely no one – for they both know her, okay – Ruby ends up sitting on the bed, fingers wide with shock. Sapphire overturns the situation with a kiss, sitting on his lap, and Ruby sighs inwardly, not exactly disappointed but not satisfied either. Well – no. Ruby will always be satisfied with having her. But—

Sapphire reaches into his pants and he sees white, tensing up. It's always like this with her, fast and hard, and usually he makes her take it slow, but today he thinks they need to work their tension off. So he lets her, grabbing at her bed covers like they're his lifeline. Sapphire knows what he likes—slow and easy, like a romance movie—but today she refuses to take it easy. He presses his mouth against hers, and notices her hands falter, just a second, but then they tighten around him and—

He whispers her name into her mouth when he comes. Sapphire lets him catch his breath (thank _god – _some days, she doesn't let him rest), and then he decides that the hidden part of him wants to come out and play. With a sure movement, he grabs at her bare hips and brings her closer, cursing her underwear and his excess of clothing. Sapphire must be on the same wavelength, because she pulls away and at his shirt at the same time, flicking it aside. He frowns, because that's one his favorites, but says nothing, opting to punish her by grinding his hips against hers. It works wonderfully; her eyes flutter and her stomach quivers.

But Sapphire always fights to win. She pushes at his shoulders once more, trapping him below. She allows him to pull off her shirt—

"_Why aren't you wearing a bra?"_ he squeaks. Sapphire shrugs, and he is ashamed to admit he follows the movement of her breasts with his eyes.

"It's too hot, I don't wanna," she answers easily, returning her attentions to his dick again.

Ruby denies her, this time, instead choosing to place his right inside her underwear at the same time he catches her wrist. It's not his favorite piece—he's bought her a white, lacy set, but Sapphire only wears it on his birthday—but he'll manage. After all, with a quivering mess of a girl above him, how could he not?

"Why don't you ever wear the underwear I gave you?"

She tries sending him a warning look (_why the hell are you criticizing my panty choices while your hand is _inside them_ you fucking fashion pervert_), but falls short, giving a sharp, dry gasp when he presses his thumb against her. Her hips are gyrating against his hand and he knows she'll feel embarrassed after, but god, Sapphire looks heavenly. He takes in the curve of her flat stomach, tanned by the sun, takes in the thin pale scars that are scattered across her skin, and then gives her breast a long, flat lick. Sapphire tightens around his fingers, biting her lip.

"It was expensive, you know," he adds, in a sultry voice.

"I don't—" a short, low moan, "—like frilly things—"

"You look good in frilly things."

Her spine is curving already; Ruby knows she's close, so he stops, pressing a kiss against her collarbone. Sapphire catches her breath.

"Why'd you stop?" she asks, devastatingly frustrated. He answers her with a devious smile.

"It's polite to say please."

Sapphire's blush spreads into her neck and ears as her eyes widen. He likes it. Maybe he likes being sadistic, after all. Being masochistic doesn't suit his stubborn personality (even if she is just as stubborn as he is … or maybe even more), so maybe … Maybe he's found his one true calling? Ruby knows he likes slowing his pace when she's above him, pressing her down with his hands, whispering the most sappy things he can think of as he looks her in the eye. He's always topped from beneath, he realizes, a little proud of himself, even if he sometimes lets her keep up her quick pace.

Sapphire bites her lip, looks away, and then whispers the quietest please Ruby has ever had the pleasure to hear.

"I didn't hear you," he lies, his fingers still.

"P—please," she says, louder this time, and he smiles at her, regaining momentum. He bites at her earlobe at the same time his left hand joins his right, and works as hard as he can. He doesn't think Sapphire's ever come so hard before (and she usually does, if he's allowed to set his modesty aside). With a shuddering gasp, with trembling shoulders, she lets her head fall right beside his ear. She sounds sweet, sounds perfect, and he rewards her with a kiss.

"Good girl," he croons, flattening his hands around her ass, already planning to flip her over. "Good girl."

Sapphire only moans in reply.


End file.
